By MELANIE MCFARLAND, SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER TELEVISION CRITIC

Updated 10:00 pm, Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Opportunity must be a frequent visitor to the Simmons' majestic doorstep, because everyone in the household has seized it at some time or another. So braggeth hip-hop superstar Rev. Run, the head of "Run's House," premiering tonight at 10:30 on MTV.

In his view, his family's struggles mirror the typical American brood's, albeit on a horrendously distorted scale.

Indeed, Joey Simmons, aka Reverend Run, of Run-DMC, is little more than another put-upon father constantly having things demanded of him. And there are a lot of bells to answer here, starting with his 22-year-old Ford model daughter Vanessa, his 18-year-old fashion designer brainiac Angela, his 16-year-old future rap star son JoJo (Joseph), the house's 10-year-old basketball prodigy Diggy (Daniel), and 9-year-old aspiring filmmaker Russell Jr., or so says Daddy.

Championing her children's cause is wife Justine, a softie who weeps when her girl is denied a six-figure budget for the graduation party of her dreams. Finally, Run gets some guidance and support when he needs it from his brother, Russell Simmons, the Def Jam mogul who lives just down the road with his wife Kimora.

And you thought Diddy was just famous for remaking megahits on the radio. The same technique is in play with "Run's House," which he co-executive produces with Run's brother, as well as Stan Latham and John Davies.

Be honest, as you're reading this, don't some of you wish you had easy access to Ozzy Osbourne so you could smack him? It's more his fault than Diddy's that we're still slobbering over the family lives of the hyper-rich. Would Middle Americans stop worrying about from where the next car payment is coming and glom onto the daily lives of pop music royalty if not for "The Osbournes"? The world may never know. Until we do, here's a father debating with his daughter over the necessity of putting a $10,000 plexiglass dance floor over the backyard pool. It's tricky, tricky, triiiick-ay.

But it's silly to even ask that question in a time when MTV could stand for Moneyed Teen Vision. Audiences tune in to see spoiled girls throw tantrums to get the kind of birthday parties most adults would kill for, or to watch the barely literate privileged stick their tongues down one another's throats while Daddy and Trophy Mummy are away on business.

"Run's House" at least gives MTV something to point to when joyless television crusaders lambaste its 24-hour celebration of decadence and the sickeningly rich. That other stuff is true, but, hey, now they have a sickeningly rich hip-hop godfather turned ordained minister, shepherding his overachieving flock! Fame, wealth and piety, isn't that what America is all about?

This "reality sitcom" (a subgenre that allows for an even more scripted manipulation than usual) gives us both, presented as "The Cosby Show," "7th Heaven," "The Brady Bunch" and "The Princes of Malibu" wrapped into one happy, bling-bloated East Coast rap star fantasy.

Of these influences, "Cosby" has the heaviest hold, popping up whenever Run and Justine have discussions about what to do with the kids in their enormous bed -- such as , for example, who's going to buy Angela a bathing suit for her party.

"I'll do it for style purposes," says the reverend who, as president of Phat Farm Footwear and CEO of Run Athletics, knows style purposes. "I'm not gonna worry about revealing. I'll get her something that's hot."

"Oh, like I wouldn't get her nothing that's hot?" his offended wife responds.

"No, I'm just saying, I'm gonna make sure she's fly. That it works out."

"I wouldn't make sure she's fly?"

"That's not the point," he says, defeated. "I'll go."

"You know, I know why you wanna go," she retorts. "You should say, 'Jus, you could go.' But you're not saying that because you think I would pick out something ..."

"Wack," he interrupts.

"WHAT?!"

The Simmonses don't take their success for granted though, one astringently refreshing aspect of "Run's House." The kids may not get their wishes of, say, iPod Shuffles as party favors and fireworks like Diddy's, but they do appreciate what they have. When all is said and done, we see Run sitting down with his kids and explaining why he's rewarded his daughter with such extreme opulence: She's graduated with straight A's and has direction in her life.

Then he delivers the lesson to be learned from their sister's $6,000 party: Life gives to the giver, and takes from the taker. They repeat it back to him, and return to their various quests toward excellence.

Minus parents with deep-fried brains, this is what we get: A world in which anything less than a hot, fly existence -- in school, in business or the realm of fashion -- is wack. Don't be wack, kids. You can't really complain about that as a central message of an MTV program, even one doubling as a publicity stunt to sell the star's solo album "Distortion," due to be released on Tuesday.

It's easy to see that "Run's House" risks becoming a moving catalog with Daddy as cash machine. Whether audiences will find the show's consumerism-as-reward message interesting enough to keep coming back is tough to predict. Arriving at the tail of a spent reality trend can't benefit the series, and its absence of nut jobs may hurt its chances. The Simmons clan is hot and fly, but in the shadow of Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston's "hell to the no" lunacy, it could have difficulty measuring up.

"I'm open with love," Run tells his daughter, arms outstretched. "Look at me. I'm Daddy."

He may as well be saying that to MTV's viewers. We're curious to find out if they return the embrace.